Unknown Territory
by walkingthewaves01
Summary: Artemis Fowl is to be sent to America when a deal goes wrong between his father and a criminal. Artemis has other plans and flees, only to be taken in by...Madam Ko? SLASH & AU non-magic
1. Chapter 1

Hi all! This is my first fanfic EVER so bear with me. I'm still discovering my writing style and technique, so ALL comments and critique are welcome.

On a side note, how do I go about finding myself a competent Beta? Is there a community somewhere for finding them or something?

Disclaimer: I do not own Artemis Fowl or any character from it, nor do I intend to use this story to make a profit in any way. So there Eoin Colfer. Just try to sue me now.

Warnings: SLASH in later chapters, AU (this is a pretty fairy-less world)

On to the story!

--

Complete darkness. A crash, the sick sound of skin colliding with -- brick? -- and silence.

--

Artemis Fowl the Second sat in the back seat of a car headed west. Headed to the airport. To a plane which would take him to America.

His mother, Angeline Fowl, drove the car with a determined cheeriness and a hard glint in her eyes.

"Aunt Lorrie is just a wonderful lady, Arty dear. You're going to love her."

_Or else_, Artemis thought, adding his mother's unspoken but implicit words. Artemis's luggage sat on the seat beside him, heavy and imposing and too damned permanent looking. Angeline had told her son he would only be gone for a few weeks, at the most two months, but Artemis knew better. Drug lords didn't just give up and go away; it would be like the godfather holding up his hands and saying, "Why can't we all just get along?"

Artemis knew that Angeline was only trying to protect him; he was her only child, the love of her life, not to mention her only hope for grandchildren. And Angeline knew she had never been much of a parent to Arty. He was always so independent, so secretive, and so smart, even as a child. Angeline liked to boast at parties of once finding five-year-old Artemis sitting in front of the T.V. watching a foreign film and a week later holding a conversation with the chef from Quebec in French.

Still, her attempt at protecting her prodigal son was futile, at least in Artemis's mind.

The car pulled up to the main doors of the airport. Artemis eyed some shifty-looking men slink around the entrance.

Angeline turned around in her seat and cupped Artemis's cheek. "Please, Arty. Do this for me. Try to have some fun; I really think you might enjoy yourself if you tried."

"I will, Mother."

"And I'd better hear nothing but praise coming from Aunt Lorrie, do you hear me? I don't want any funny business going on over there."

"I know, Mother."

"So no trouble-making. None at all. We're agreed then."

Artemis severely doubted whether he could get up to any trouble in Pennsylvania if he tried to. What was he going to do, go cow tipping? On the other hand, Artemis Fowl the Second was virtually incapable of _not_ succeeding at anything he tried to do.

Angeline smiled, or at least tried to, as much as any woman on the point of an emotional breakdown can. "Call me when you get there, no matter what time of day it is. I don't care if it's one in the morning and the President's dancing drunk in front of the White House without any clothes on. I want that cell phone of yours the first thing you pick up when your plane touches the ground."

"I wouldn't dream of anything else."

Angeline dabbed at her eyeliner in the mirror for a minute and rearranged wisps of her hair for another. She turned around again. "I love you, Arty. More than you'll ever understand; only a mother really can. Promise me you'll be safe."

Artemis felt something shift guiltily in one of the dark recesses of his mind.

"I promise, Mother, I promise. And ideally, I need to leave this car and check my luggage sometime before the plane leaves, you understand."

"Oh Arty." Angeline twisted in her seat to plant a kiss on Artemis's forehead. "Well, go on then, before I change my mind!"

"Goodbye, Mother," Artemis said, exasperated.

Artemis opened the door and stepped into a cloud of fog, everything blurry while his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

"Artemis."

Artemis turned in the direction of that familiar, deep voice and squinted at the mountain of a man before him.

"Butler. I trust you had an enjoyable ride?"

Butler plucked Artemis's bags off the seat as if they held nothing but air and nodded to Angeline. He slammed the door shut - doors couldn't really be anything but slammed where Butler was concerned - and the car turned, disappearing onto the highway.

Butler studied the tendrils of smoke the car had left in its wake before glancing at the stretch limo the Fowl family had provided for him. "It was a...pleasant experience to have myself driven somewhere for once."

"Trust Angeline to come up with the idea of some mother-son road trip before I'm practically kicked out of the house. Honestly, I'm surprised she even has a license."

Butler snorted and lifted the suitcases with one hand. "Ready?" He grabbed Artemis without waiting for a reply and marched him into the building.

Artemis once again felt it prudent to half-heartedly argue with Butler about the necessity of being babysat until tucked into his seat on the airplane. After all, Butler would expect it.

"You claim you cannot come with me because..._he_...has agents with yard-long reports on everything from your height to the size of your jock cup. Does it not seem possible that his agents are watching all airports in Ireland and will spot you? You are a hard sight to miss, I must say."

"They would be looking for you anyway, even if I weren't with you. So what's the difference? If they're here, I'll find them."

"And kill them. You really don't need to accompany me. I'm more than capable of handling this myself."

"I know."

"Then I'm having trouble understanding the reasoning behind your continued surveillance of my bodily person."

"Like you have trouble understanding anything. Artemis, I'm not enough of a fool to trust you any farther than I could throw you. Which is actually a hell of a lot farther than most people could," Butler said. By then the luggage had been tagged and transported to wherever it is luggage goes to at an airport, and bodyguard and principle sat secluded in a corner of the President's Club, Artemis sniffing disdainfully at cubes of cheese on toothpicks and Butler giving the eye to anyone stupid enough to walk within ten feet of them. "And that's barring the fact that airports are the breeding ground for whack jobs."

A voice crackled over the speakers. "Flight 23E will begin boarding in 15 minutes. I repeat, boarding for Flight 23E will begin in 15 minutes. 15 minutes for 23E."

Why they needed to repeat the same sentence five different ways Artemis didn't think he'd ever understand, but he suspected it was because they were all just idiots. Anyway, he had been waiting to hear that very announcement for the past half an hour. Finally.

"Butler, I would like to find a washroom before leaving."

_Now is the time, any later and I'll be cutting it too close for comfort_, Artemis thought

"It's to the right, next to the water fountain," Butler said, heaving himself out of his chair and heading in the aforementioned direction.

"Butler," Artemis said, placing a hand on his bodyguard's arm, "It's practically two feet away. Can't a seventeen-year-old have a modicum of privacy?"

Butler huffed, but relented. "I'll be waiting just outside the door," he said, casting Artemis a warning look.

_It can't be this easy_, Artemis thought. _It really can't. Doesn't Butler know any better by now?_

Now if only his damned conscience would take a lunch break. These nagging doubts were really becoming all too frequent.

--

Artemis Fowl the Senior opened his eyes and then _really _wished he hadn't. If that was his blood all over the floor - and he was pretty sure it wasn't old Mrs. Bakely's from down the street - than he was fucked. Royally fucked.

Knock knock at the door.

_Who's there?_ Artemis the Senior thought.

Another knock at the door.

Then it opened.


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings: Hints of SLASH-y goodness in this chap, and that's about it. Enjoy!

--

Air vents were a funny subject. In movies, Leonardo DiCaprio used them as his primary method of travel. Gotta take a smoke break? I'll just duck in this ole' air vent and pop out with a Camel in one hand and a drink in the other.

Artemis had come to the conclusion that this was a false representation of the air vent. He had also come to the conclusion that the air vent was probably the most frustrating invention on the face of planet Earth.

After spending a good five minutes sitting in a cubicle waiting for a father and his two sons to leave, Artemis had found - as he knew he would - a ventilation shaft on the ceiling above the last stall. There was - as he had also expected - bolts on the vent. For Artemis, this was not a problem.

What was a problem was that he was stuck in a very small, very dusty passageway and his Armani suit was undoubtedly ruined by now. _Damnit._

After carefully replacing the cover and bolts, Artemis crawled through the tunnel. It was a dignified sort of crawl, he tried to tell himself.

Sliding one leg past the other as quietly as he could, Artemis felt his way through the passageway, a vague sense of claustrophobia creeping in. Artemis doubted if there would be enough room to turn around if he made a wrong turn.

Artemis didn't need to turn around though. If there was one mastermind planner, it was Artemis - and he knew it. Left at the first turn, straight, stay straight, and a right. Artemis crept to the slated light illuminating the tunnel. He lowered his ear to the grates and listened.

"I don't know how you can expect him to call you after that little fiasco. I didn't think a five-year-old could throw that kind of a tantrum."

"I'm sorry, I thought it would be expected my boyfriend could stop ogling the waitress's chest for about _two minutes_ and hold a conversation with me!"

"Mimi-"

"What was I thinking?"

A door slammed and the voices cut off.

_Women._ Artemis rolled his eyes, but kept his ear pressed against the cold metal. No sound.

Artemis dug out a thin, metal device from inside his suit. To the security guards, it looked, even under x-ray, like a pen. Artemis thrust his fingers through a slat in the shaft and angled the object so that its tip connected with a bolt.

_Whiz_, and the bolt landed on the floor with a tiny clink. Three more times, and the vent was ready to be opened, until Artemis heard door hinges creak.

Artemis flung back against the wall. Voices floated into the tunnel, only this time it wasn't two female voices. One was male. Giggling reached his ears, the sound of clothes rustling, and Artemis felt something sink in the pit of his stomach.

_Damnit damnit damnit._

There was no way he could wait for Jack and Jill down there to finish up their...whatever. Artemis chewed the inside of his cheek. This was one of the few subjects outside of his expertise, but he had a pretty good idea that they would be taking more than - he glanced at his watch - the six minutes he had left to board his plane.

_Damnit. _Artemis slammed his foot on the ventilation shaft anyway and maneuvered himself to the washroom floor.

A few stalls down, he saw a toilet, two pairs of legs, a bra, and something that looked like a charred cucumber. Artemis could only be thankful they hadn't decided to do it on the sink. At his entrance, the legs froze.

"Is somebody there? Hello?" A woman's voice called.

Artemis didn't respond and focused on getting the cover and bolts back on.

"Hello? Who's there?"

A blonde head peaked out from under the stall.

"Hey! What d'you think you're doing?"

Careful to keep his face turned, though he doubted the woman could pick out her mother's face in a line-up, Artemis brushed off his suit and stepped into the airport.

--

Fifteen minutes later, Artemis was reading in a plush first-class seat on Continental and sipping a vodka. How he had procured said alcoholic beverage had gone something like this:

Artemis, flagging stewardess down: "Excuse me."

Unsuspecting stewardess: "Yes, sir, what can I help you with?"

Artemis: "I'd like a drink."

Stewardess: "Sure! We've got apple juice, orange juice, soda-"

Artemis: "Something stronger. A vodka. On the rocks."

Confused stewardess: "Sir, alcoholic beverages can only be served to those twenty-one years or old-"

Annoyed Artemis: "Do I look under the age of twenty-one, ma'am? A vodka."

Stewardess: "If I could just see your I.D. please..."

Artemis glared.

Stewardess: "I just need an-"

Really-Pissed-Off Artemis: "Do I need to call for the pilot, madam? Do you want that? Because apparently one of this airline's best customers is being taken for a lying, idiotic child, and I assure you that if said pilot catches even one whiff that I have been treated this way, he'll-"

Scared-Shitless stewardess ran off to retrieve requested drink.

Artemis, grumbling: "It better be cold..."

After that incident, it had been approximately forty minutes since a stewardess had last passed by his row of seats. A shame, really. Artemis would have loved a filet mignon right about then.

--

The plane landed in Israel as the sun was breaking, pink and orange rays illuminating the stone streets stretching from one end of the horizon to the other.

Artemis stood on the hill of a busy market street. Even though he had brought no luggage with him (as much as he had wanted to check at least one suitcase for his real flight, he knew any time he spent away from Butler would be, if not impossible, suspicious), he was not concerned. He had 5,000 shekels tucked away in his pants pocket, the equivalent of a thousand U.S. dollars, and he could always exchange more.

Artemis studied Israel's inhabitants and felt slightly out of place. And tired. Bone-tired, really. Being without Butler, one of his few (if only) friends, made the trip lonelier than he had expected. And Artemis had never been very good at making friends.

He descended the hill, sweltering in his clothes, and ambled over to an open-air produce stand. Sharp spices wafted into his nose and his eyes watered. Strange but delicious looking fruits and vegetables were attractively displayed before him. Plump, red globes of something sat temptingly in a hanging basket, and it was these Artemis was eyeing when a hand shot out and plucked one out of the basket.

"Look good, don't they?" A voice enquired.

It took Artemis a good fifteen seconds to realize the voice was directed at _him_.

His eyes traveled up the speaker's arm to his face and found a young man standing before him. He couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty. He had very strong features - sharp, chocolate eyes, a strong chin, defined nose. He was muscled but lean.

_Like a cat_, thought Artemis.

There was a predatory look in the other boy's eyes. "New around here, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a large bite into the red fruit. He dropped a few coins into the shopkeeper's hand.

Artemis swallowed. He swallowed again. "And you would assume such a thing because...?" Which was ridiculous, really. As if his translucent skin wasn't testament to the fact he hadn't spent more than five minutes in this pounding sun.

Amusement sprang to life in the stranger's face. "Irish, are you?" His voice took on a poorly done Irish accent. "What are ya doin' all th' way o'er here? Are they after ye' lucky charms?" He gave Artemis a toothy grin. "I'm just kidding with you. I like it."

Artemis, for reasons he couldn't possibly comprehend, blushed.

"Oh," said Artemis, the least intelligent thing he had said to a human being since he was two. "Thanks."

"So," the other boy drawled, obviously still very amused by the situation. "Shall we introduce ourselves? This is polite company, after all." He stuck out a hand. "Troy."

Artemis grabbed the hand, feeling Troy's confident grip. Should he use a pseudo name? It was highly unlikely that Valtaro would have his cronies on him already and all the way out here, and Artemis felt compelled not to lie to Troy. So he compromised. "Art."

"Art. The _Mona Lisa_. _Virgin of the Rocks_. Graffiti in a London subway. All very subjective," Troy said. "But, I consider myself a connoisseur. I know art when I see it." His eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Well, Art. What're you doing around these piss-poor parts?"

"I..." God, what was he going to say? That he was being hunted by a madman and was on the lamb from his bodyguard?

"You look like a tourist. You're a tourist, aren't you? Can't say this is the place for the five star treatment, but I guess it's pretty cultural, if that's what you're into."

"I'm here for... not any reason, really," Artemis said, and Troy gave him a disbelieving look. "What I mean is, I just needed a change."

Why Artemis had come to Israel of all places, he wasn't sure himself. After hearing of his mother's plan for him, all he knew was that any place was better than Old McDonald's farm. Israel was rich in folklore, ruins, and religion - all of which fascinated Artemis - and he had come with the plan of having an abundance of research opportunities, if nothing else.

"Don't you have a job?" asked Troy.

Artemis thought back to all his thefts, schemes, and forgeries. "Not really." Nothing legal, anyway.

"Family? Friends?"

Artemis thought of Butler, probably half-mad with worry by now. And when Angeline found out...but maybe Butler wouldn't tell her. No, now that he thought about it, it was very likely that Butler wouldn't tell her. After all, it was _his_ responsibility to see Artemis safely to his flight. And besides that, Butler loved Angeline as his own mother. He wouldn't worry her on account of another of Artemis's "stupid plans."

Butler would disown him when he found him, though.

"None that I need to worry about, anyway," Artemis said. Though he did need to call Angeline, sooner than later.

Troy crossed his arms, muscles straining through his worn T-shirt. Artemis stared at them.

"Let's go for a walk, Art," Troy suggested. He slipped an arm around Artemis's back and pulled his coat off, ignoring Artemis's yelp of protest. "You looked hot," he said dismissively, flinging the coat on a wooden fence post. He smiled again - Artemis was beginning to become wary of that smile - and reached out to Artemis's neck, undoing a few buttons on the collar of his shirt. "Now, let's find something to eat, yeah?" And with that, Troy sauntered down the hill.

And Artemis followed.


End file.
